


Ineffable You

by seekeronthepath



Series: Coming Out Stories [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Asexual Derek Hale, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Communication, Developing Relationship, Friendship, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Русалка | нимфа | nimfa | Rusalka (Slavic Mythology & Folklore)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-02
Packaged: 2018-04-15 04:58:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4593687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seekeronthepath/pseuds/seekeronthepath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek isn't an idiot. He knows Stiles wants to have sex with him. But Derek doesn't want to have sex with Stiles. Derek doesn't want to have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ineffable You

**Author's Note:**

> In my head, this is kind of a companion piece to my bisexual Stiles fic 'Oh shit, is this a closet?', although they both stand alone. If you like, you can imagine this as happening after that, in Stiles' senior year.
> 
> Assume canon-divergent from the end of season 2 - Derek lives in the loft with Isaac, but there was no alpha pack. Instead, the pack has dealt with a series of monsters of the week. Erica and Boyd are still with the pack. Peter's not around, although whether he's still dead, elsewhere, or dead again I leave to your imaginations. The Sheriff still doesn't know about the supernatural, but he /is/ aware that Stiles is friends with Derek and co, even if he doesn't really understand why.

Derek wasn't an idiot. He knew that Stiles wanted him. Looking the way he did, he'd learnt years ago that when someone looked at you like _that_ and bit their lips like _this_ and smelt like _that_ , it all added up to 'I want to have sex with you'. So Derek knew Stiles wanted to have sex with him.

But Derek didn't. Want sex with Stiles. Derek didn't want sex. He'd only ever wanted it when he'd been trying desperately to appeal to Kate, and that had ended almost as badly as a relationship ever could. So Derek wasn't going to say yes to Stiles.

He wasn't going to say no either, not unless Stiles pushed the issue. His mother had always taught them that you shouldn't make assumptions based on people's smells, and he figured body language was the same. No, unless Stiles actually _said_ something, Derek would allow them both the fiction that it wasn't a thing. And if Stiles _did_ say something, Derek would let him down as gently as possible. He wasn't cruel.

And Stiles wasn't like the women who ogled him on the street, in the coffee shop, at the store. Stiles actually knew him, talked to him, paid attention to his mind as much as his muscles. There was lust there, but that wasn't _all_ there was.

Stiles confused Derek. He was remarkably empathetic for someone so abrasive. He was almost constantly anxious, but he was stubborn and defiant almost to the point of recklessness. He was intensely protective of Scott and his father, in a way that reminded Derek constantly of the pack instincts of born 'wolves, but he was one of the few people Derek had met who he couldn't imagine as anything but human. He was proud of his role as a researcher, but insisted on being on the front lines as well. He didn't fit into a pack hierarchy as alpha or beta, but he wasn't a loner either. He was fundamentally contradictory.

Honestly, Derek didn't know what to do with Stiles.

\-----

Stiles wasn't an idiot. He knew Derek wasn't into in him. He had years of experience searching for reciprocal interest in someone's eyes and finding none. So Stiles knew that Derek didn't want to have sex with him.

But Stiles did. Want sex with Derek. Or whatever he could get, he wasn't picky, and it's not like he had much experience to compare with. But a couple of years of haphazard self-interrogation had led him gradually to the conclusion that he was bi, and Derek was, without doubt, the hottest person he knew. So if Stiles ever got a hint of interest from Derek, he'd say yes.

He wasn't about to ask, though. He'd been rejected enough times. And he maintained a careful façade of denial that allowed him to pretend he wasn't totally obvious, and that Derek hadn't already figured him out and drop-kicked the possibility out the window. No, Stiles wasn't going to say anything. If he kept quiet, the two of them could keep pretending there was nothing there. He was sure Derek would let him down gently if it ever came up. He wasn't cruel.

And Stiles did his best to ignore it. He hated the women who ogled Derek everywhere he went - it obviously made Derek uncomfortable. Instead, Stiles tried his best to be friends with Derek, to talk to him, listen to him, spend time with him. He was definitely worth spending time with. There was lust there, but that wasn't _all_ there was.

Derek confused Stiles. He was incredibly vulnerable, for someone so aggressive. He was always on the attack, but after a while it became obvious that it was because he was always afraid things would go wrong.  He was a born werewolf, but he had such good control that he was more human than Scott, who rejected his werewolf side almost completely. He was always the first to go for a physical attack, but when he had the chance, he loved to read, and his knowledge of the supernatural was seriously impressive. He desperately wanted a pack, but he had no idea how to get along with people. He was surprisingly complicated, really.

Honestly, Stiles didn't know what to do with Derek.

\-----

Then a rusalka showed up. After the first couple of deaths, the pack started investigating, but they assumed it was a kelpie and went out to investigate armed with iron and silver. The bodies had been found at quite different locations, so they split into pairs, meaning that Stiles and Derek were alone when Stiles saw a red-headed women (apparently) drowning in the creek. At least, that's what he said later. _Derek_ insisted that Stiles had seen the girl swimming, lost his wits, and completely forgotten what was going on in order to follow her into the river. Derek may not have known exactly what was happening, but he wasn't stupid. He attacked the girl despite Stiles' protests, untangled Stiles from her grasp as quickly as he could (considering his claws weren't having much effect, and neither was the iron), dragged Stiles to Deaton's clinic to make sure he wasn't permanently affected, and regrouped the pack.

Deaton didn't have any advice for them except his word that Stiles wasn't under an enchantment any more and seemed to be healthy. Since Stiles, once Derek got him away from the girl, was as confused by his actions as Derek had been, they took Deaton's word for it. The next day, Stiles texted them all with a list of female water-spirits that liked to drown people, and his opinion that it was most likely a rusalka. Since Derek hadn't been affected, they assumed werewolves were immune. Unfortunately, they were wrong, which they discovered when Isaac only narrowly escaped drowning two days later. (Luckily, he'd been on patrol with Erica, who wasn't affected any more than Derek.)

The next hypothesis Stiles came up with was that Derek was unaffected because of an alpha thing, but figuring that out took lower priority than figuring out how to stop the rusalka from drowning everyone _else_. There was a lot of swearing when Stiles announced that, being already dead, it couldn't technically be killed. There was even more swearing when he figured out that they needed to find her killer and avenge her death. Jackson in particular, was displeased with the news. Luckily, by this point they'd established the range of the rusalka's influence, and the pack were able to keep people out of her way without having Derek, Allison, and Erica constantly on patrol. It took a solid month for them to figure out who she was (Tereza Martinek), who killed her (her abusive boyfriend), and what happened to him (a year and a half for involuntary manslaughter). Then they had to figure out whether him getting convicted of murder and punished legally would work, or if he needed to die - it was Chris, in the end, who assured them that as long as culturally appropriate 'justice' was served, it would work. _Then_  they had to gather enough evidence to convict him, and bring it to the attention of the Sheriff in such a way that he wouldn't be too suspicious of it and would actually follow up. And then, of course, it took a while for him to get retried and resentenced. So it was almost three months after the first death that Derek and Stiles went back to the creek to see if she was gone. 

 

"Y'know, we never figured out why she didn't affect you," Stiles pointed out when they were nearly at the creek. They'd decided to follow the whole length of it through the preserve, just in case.

Derek looked away. "I, uh, I guess not."

"You reckon it was an alpha thing?" Stiles asked idly. "Only I remember Chris saying something about ghost-y things not caring about supernatural versus human, only alive versus dead."

"They can be pretty arbitrary," Derek agreed steadily.

Stiles picked a branch up off the ground and started using it as a walking stick. It's not that he _needed_ one, but it definitely helped prevent stumbling when he was hiking over uneven ground. "And all the other unaffected ones were girls. It's weird that it was a gender thing, except for you."

Derek frowned. He suspected he knew exactly what it was, he just didn't know if he wanted to talk about it. "I'm not female, Stiles."

Stiles raised his eyebrows and looked Derek up and down, walking backwards for a minute. "Hoo boy, you definitely are not. And seriously, that's not what I was implying, like, at all, I just...shit!"

Derek caught Stiles before he could fall over the root that had tripped him up. "Watch where you're going, maybe?" he suggested drily.

"Will do, Sourwolf." Stiles looked around. "This is starting to look familiar, are we near her hunting zone?"

A corner of Derek's lip quirked up. "Look." He nodded towards the cairn they'd set up as a marker. "We should find her soon if she's still around."

Stiles made a face. "You realize if we have to actually kill him we've just made it like ten times harder for ourselves?"

Derek had been trying to ignore that possibility. "I think if this didn't work it'd be better to start looking into exorcisms, or the equivalent for ghosts."

Stiles sighed. "Yeah, it's on my list. Along with updating the bestiary to add the alpha-immunity to the rusalka entry."

Derek caught his breath. "You, uh, probably shouldn't. Put that in the bestiary."

"Why not?" Stiles waved a hand expansively at the creek beside them. "Having you around saved my life, _again_ , I might add. You don't think that knowledge is important?"

Derek looked away. "Yes, but...I don't think it was an alpha thing. I think it was a me thing."

"What was it then? Why didn't you mention it sooner?" Stiles demanded.

"Because it's personal, Stiles!" Derek exclaimed. Then, more quietly, he went on. "And, uh, let's just say I suspect Danny would have been immune too, if we'd ever brought him out here."

Stiles stopped walking abruptly. "...you're _gay_?"

Derek ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Ace, actually. But the same principle applies. It only works on those attracted to women. The girls are all straight, I'm ace, so none of us were affected."

"You're...ace," Stiles clarified slowly.

"Asexual," Derek explained. "It's a thing, I'm it, look it up if you haven't heard of it, I hate answering stupid questions." He _really_ hated answering stupid questions. As if masturbation had anything to do with his sexual identity.

"No, I've heard of it, I mean, I'll probably still ask stupid questions, I try to avoid it but I don't usually have a lot of success - shit, I'm babbling," Stiles cut himself off. "Sorry. It's just...you're _ace_." And after a pause: "That explains a lot."

\-----

They didn't talk about it for a while after that. But it was there, in the way that Stiles watched Derek appraisingly, looking to see his reaction to flirting and innuendoes. It was there in the way that Derek relaxed, in the knowledge that he'd let down one of his barriers and it hadn't gone wrong. It was there in the way the tension of unspoken wishes had dissipated, washed away by the certainty of Derek's orientation. It was nice, actually, having somebody know. He hadn't told anyone since he left New York - it's not like it'd been relevant. But now that he had told someone...it felt good, that it wasn't a secret anymore.

\-----

They didn't talk about it for a while after that. Derek seemed happy with what little he'd decided to share already, and Stiles was just avoiding the inevitable awkwardness and embarrassment that would happen when he brought the topic up and managed to stick his foot in it. So, despite being ragingly curious, he didn't ask Derek any of his questions. Instead, he did what he usually did when he was curious about something, and asked the internet. And as it turned out, the internet had a lot of answers. Not just personal blogs and tumblr posts, either, but magazine articles, _academic_ articles, forums, websites, and a heck-ton of merchandise. And Stiles may have started looking because he wanted to understand better, but he _kept_ looking because it turned out that this shit was interesting, and yeah, maybe he got a little hyperfocused in the AVEN forums on night, but...seriously. There was this whole group of people who didn't experience something most people treated as universal. How could that _not_ be interesting? They dealt with all the identity/labels/coming-out/questioning/prejudice/erasure stuff the rest of the LGBT+ alphabet did, but there was other stuff too. The asexual community seemed really aware of different spectrums, for example - not just sexuality or gender, but _how_ sexual you were, or how much you wanted/liked/tolerated/hated sex, or what sorts of intimacies you _did_ like (and that was fascinating too, all the different ways to be close to people), or how romantic or sexual a relationship was, or what sort of relationship/s you were interested in. And it wasn't just applicable to asexual people - it was making Stiles think about himself, too. About the relationships he had, and why "just friends" was bullshit, and the way he and Scott had been a _pair_ before Allison came along, and why it hurt so much for them to be drifting apart. And then there was all the stuff about mixed orientation relationships. Because it turned out that a _lot_ of asexual people ended up in romantic relationships with non-asexual people, and that had the potential to suck. A lot. So there was all this stuff about communication, and boundaries, and open relationships, and compromise, and...well, it reminded Stiles of that time he got curious about polyamory. There were just a _lot_ of factors at play, and it took a lot of work, and a lot of allosexuals would probably have healthier relationships with each other if they took this stuff into account. So then Stiles started to think about his own expectations for a capital-r Relationship. And then he started thinking about Derek again. If he could have a non-sexual romantic relationship with Derek, would he even want one? Stiles thought about it for a long time, a lot, and eventually he decided that yeah, he would.

\-----

Derek was sitting next to Stiles' bed, reading, while Stiles worked on whatever project was keeping him busy now. He usually had at least three going, so Derek didn't keep track very well. It was a familiar scene for them, a habit established in times of desperation-fuelled research that had matured into mutual appreciation of the quiet companionship the other offered. Derek was finding it difficult to focus on his book, though, when Stiles was so nervous.

"Stiles," he sighed at last. "Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?"

Stiles kept his back turned, a sure sign of avoidance. "What? Nothing's bothering me."

Derek didn't know why Stiles even tried to lie, these days, but he decided to let it go. Usually Stiles could be counted on to agitate himself into talking once you pointed something out. It took longer than usual, this time - he must have been especially anxious, but eventually, he did speak up.

"Hey Derek?" Stiles began tentatively.

"Yes, Stiles?"

Stiles bit his lip. "You said you were asexual...are you aromantic too?"

Derek's mood soured. "No," he replied shortly. His life would have been a lot easier if he had been.

Stiles nodded quickly, jiggling his leg. "Right. I was, uh...I was wondering if..." He huffed out an impatient breath, then tried again. "Would you, maybe, uh...goonadatewithme?"

Derek stared. "You know I'm asexual," he clarified.

"Yeah..." said Stiles slowly.

"That's not going to change," Derek said flatly. "It doesn't matter how many dates, I'll never want sex with you."

"Dude!" Stiles mouth dropped open. "I am _not_ that much of a dick! I mean, yeah, we both know that I think you're sexy as fuck and I'd _love_ to get in your pants...if you _wanted me there_. But you don't, so it isn't happening, and I'm cool with that. Seriously."

Derek frowned, confused. "...then you're asking me on a date because...?"

Stiles threw his hands in the air, exasperated. "Because I'd like to go on a date with you? Is it that weird? I _like_ you, Derek, and I think maybe I could like you in a romantic-y way as well as a friendship-y way, and I thought we could give it a try and find out?"

"What are you expecting? Derek asked, cautious.

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, I have literally _no_ experience to draw on...we do things together, just the two of us, and call it a date? And try and be romantic-ish instead of friendly? And at some point we have a chat about boundaries so that I know what sort of physical contact you like and then I get to maybe kiss you? Or maybe just hug you, if that's your thing. Or, I don't know, we could make it work with less if you don't like hugs either." Stiles was starting to babble, his scent souring into disappointment. "Look, it's cool, it's obvious you aren't interested, can we just forget this and be friends?"

Derek was...shocked, to be perfectly honest. It was  _thoroughly_ obvious that Stiles wanted sex, and a lot of it, and soon, please. The idea that he would give that up to date Derek was utterly confounding. And Derek had always known that, so he'd never even considered dating Stiles, no matter how close they'd gotten or how much Derek trusted him, or how much Stiles made Derek feel safe, or how desperately Derek wanted the closeness that came with romantic relationships, or...actually, now that he'd thought about it, it could be nice, dating someone who already knew he was asexual. Did he want that sort of relationship with Stiles, though? He thought about kissing Stiles, Stiles leaning against him as they watched a movie, waking up in the morning surrounded by the scent of the two of them...yes, actually. He would like that a lot.

"I can't forget it," he said at last, and Stiles slumped.

"Shit. Really? I'm sorry, I never should have brought it up, fuck, I didn't mean to fuck everything up..."

"Stiles!" Derek interrupted, wincing at the way Stiles had misunderstood him. "No, I can't forget it, because _yes_ , I'll go on a date with you."

"Omigod, really?" Stiles said in a rush, and Derek grinned at the beaming smile that stretched across his face.

\-----  

For their first date, they went to the movies. It didn't exactly go  _badly_ , but it was...well. They couldn't quite figure out how to be more-than-friendly around each other, and Stiles was nervous about physical contact, and they'd come in separate cars to prevent rumours getting around to the Sheriff, so when the movie was over they stood outside the cinema together, awkwardly delaying their departure, and at last Stiles said with a heavy sigh, "Thanks for trying, Derek," and turned away.

Derek caught him by the hand. "Stiles...better luck next time?"

 

And their second date did go better. They took the Camaro and drove to a restaurant in the next town over for dinner, nice enough to dress up for, but not so nice it would make Stiles nervous. The setting was traditionally 'date-like' enough that they began to exchange long looks and blushes, and conversation flowed freely, and at the end of the meal, Derek cut off the argument about the bill with the hopeful offer: "I'll get this and you get the next one, okay?"

 

For their third date, they went to the movies again, but Stiles picked Derek up, and they went to a diner afterwards. They stayed their long enough to be getting Looks from the staff, who clearly wanted to close up, before Stiles at last drove Derek home. As the loft came into view, Stiles said hesitantly, "Hey Derek? Do you think we could have that chat about boundaries soon? Because I, uh...I'd really like to know if I can kiss you."

When he glanced sideways, he saw a small, _real_ smile on Derek's face. "That sounds good. And closed-mouth kisses are fine."

"Yeah?" Stiles asked, a little shakily, as he parked the Jeep.

Derek leaned over and kissed him, a long, slow press of lips that lit sparks in Stiles' veins. "Yeah." Derek placed a second quick kiss on the corner of Stiles' mouth, then unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. "Have a good night, Stiles."

"G-Good night, Derek," Stiles stuttered, eyes wide. He sat in the Jeep for a long time after Derek went inside, hand pressed to his lips, savouring the memory. "That was _awesome_ ," he breathed at last, then started the Jeep to head home.

\-----

It took literal months for anyone else to notice. To be fair, not much had changed. They'd always spent a lot of time together, there'd always been tension between them, they'd already been one of the default pairs in the pack. Stiles still smelt like arousal around Derek, and Derek still didn't smell like arousal around Stiles, and neither of them smelt like they'd had sex with each other. Most of their dates were at home, or out of town, or in the woods - they found they preferred being alone together. Derek wasn't demonstrative, and Stiles followed his lead about PDA, and the two of them discovered that there was something to be said for keeping that part of their relationship close and private, particularly since they were still figuring out how they wanted it to work. They were trying to be discreet anyway. And after the first month, it became a joke between the two of them, trying to guess who would figure it out first, and how, and when. As it turned out, they had the _best_ coming out story.

Scott and Stiles' friendship had suffered, back in sophomore year, and after a long time when Stiles had tried to keep his hurt to himself, they'd had a raging argument and actually started to resolve things. So now they had regular bro-nights, which were sacrosanct and not to be interrupted except in the direst of emergencies. On this particular bro-night, they were at Scott's house.

"Could you _stop_ talking about Derek for five minutes?" Scott burst out in the middle of a conversation.

Stiles stared. "...what?"

"You are talking about him _constantly,_ dude - I know you're friends, but the whole point of bro-night is that it's for the two of us." Scott looked at Stiles in appeal. "Seriously, bro, just man up and ask him on a date already."

Stiles stared some more, then burst out laughing. It was a good three minutes before he could stop long enough to speak. "First of all...you are like the _worst_ hypocrite Scotty, you were _so much worse_ about Allison back in the beginning."

Scott looked away, chagrined. "Seriously? I was that bad?"

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "Dude, you have literally told me about the _moles on her ass_. _Yes_ , you were that bad."

Scott rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "...yeah, okay, I was pretty bad."

"And secondly..." Stiles fought laughter again, "I already asked Derek on a date. _Ten weeks ago_."

Now it was Scott's turn to stare. "You're kidding me."

Stiles grinned. "Nope. We've been wondering how long it would take you guys to figure it out. Oh, hey!" He started rummaging for his phone. "I should tell him! Uh...mind if I interrupt bro-night real quick?"

"It's cool," Scott sighed. "At least this way I'll get some proof."

"I'm hurt," said Stiles as he unlocked his phone and found Derek's number. "Would I lie to you, Scotty boy?"

 

_"Stiles - is something wrong?"_

"Hey Derek! Nothing's wrong, but Scott had a suggestion for me I thought you should hear."

Derek sighed wearily. " _What is it, Stiles?"_

"He thinks I should man up and ask you on a date. What do you say, Sourwolf? You wanna go on a date with me?"

Stiles could hear what was probably Erica squealing on the other end. Derek sighed again, ruefully this time, and there was a smile in his voice. " _Yes, Stiles, I'll go on a date with you."_

"Awesome! Talk to you soon!"

_"Good night, Stiles."_

 

Stiles ended the call, looking triumphantly at Scott. "I'd have tried to keep it quiet for longer, but we all know you're crap at secrets."

"I'm not - " Scott protested, but Stiles interrupted him.

"You'd tell Allison, she'd tell Lydia, Lydia would tell Jackson, and Jackson would bring it up in public when he was being a douchebag," Stiles predicted.

"...yeah, that's fair," Scott admitted. "But seriously, you and Derek are _dating_?"

"Yep," Stiles replied. "And it's _awesome_."

\-----

It wasn't perfect, of course. For one, there was the sex thing. There had been a time in Derek's life when he hadn't minded the idea of sex. Oh, it never _appealed_ , but it didn't bother him either. But since then, it had acquired...traumatic associations, and Derek had never explored his new boundaries. Unfortunately this meant the early days of his relationship with Stiles were punctuated by tripping over Derek's heretofore undetermined limits, which was frustrating and distressing for both of them. Eventually, though, they did manage to settle into ways of being together that they both liked. There were things Derek always enjoyed: close-mouthed kisses on the lips, cheek, forehead; holding hands; hugs; Stiles' fingers running through his hair. Not always, but some days he felt like he could spend hours making out with Stiles (as long as hands stayed above the waist). To cuddle on the couch, or in bed, to literally sleep together, was a kind of comfort Derek loved. And there were other intimacies, more special and more rare - massages given or received; showering together, sensual but not sexual; looking after each other when violence (inevitably) impinged on their lives, Stiles cleaning blood from Derek's healing skin, Derek pulling pain from Stiles' bruises - the gentle touch of hands that told of love neither of them dared yet speak in words. It wasn't perfect. It was better than that - it was _real_. 

\-----

It wasn't perfect, of course. For one, there was the sex thing. The 'perpetually horny teenage boy' may have been a harmful stereotype in general, but it was not an entirely inaccurate description of Stiles, and it didn't automatically mesh well with what Derek wanted or needed. It didn't help that Derek could _smell him_. Every single time. Always. Derek _always knew_ when Stiles had a boner. He didn't _say_ anything, because he had a DADT policy about 'personal' scents, but Stiles could tell because he'd tense up. Apparently, Derek found arousal threatening. Stiles hated Kate a lot when he figured that out. So 'fun times with Derek' were kind of a minefield for a while. And then there was the masturbation thing. Things. To put it bluntly, Stiles hardly jerked off for three weeks straight because everything was so. awkward. Derek could _hear_ him. If he was around. So it wasn't like Stiles could discreetly excuse himself to the bathroom when he got too excited making out. Or he could, but it was just _really_ weird. And even when Derek wasn't in ear-shot, Stiles felt weird about it. Because fantasizing about Derek, that was weird, because Derek wouldn't want to do those things. But fantasizing about people other than Derek felt weird, because Stiles was extremely monogamous at heart. So there was a lot of frustration for Stiles before he and Derek sat down and had a few important conversations re. Derek turning his ears off, Stiles imagining what he wanted in the privacy of his own head, and both of them establishing where the sweet spot was that _wouldn't_ tip Stiles into territory that would tip _Derek_ into territory where he didn't want to be. Stiles didn't blame Derek for any of this. It was _because_ of Derek, sure, but it wasn't his fault. It's not like Stiles gave up sex to be with Derek, after all. He agreed to _continue_ not having sex, and now he got kisses, and cuddles, and dates, and making out, and awesomeness. Like the banter. The banter was _epic_. Derek was like a ninja with the sass, it was great. And Derek listened to him, actually _listened._ He was super-protective, too, in an adorable kind of way. So yeah, it wasn't perfect. But it was better than that - it was _real_.

\-----

The way they came out to Stiles' father was somewhat more traumatic than telling the pack - which it probably always would have been, but was particularly bad because they were, all three of them, caught by surprise.

 

Derek woke up one night, not knowing why. Stiles was there - lying on top of him, in fact, on...the couch in Stiles' living room. They must have fallen asleep during the movie; Derek could hear the menu screen on repeat. Stiles had cooked dinner for them both because the Sheriff was on night shift - the Sheriff. That's what had woken Derek: the sound of the cruiser pulling into the driveway. Shit. And he couldn't get out of here without tipping Stiles off the couch unless he woke Stiles up.

"Stiles," he hissed.

"mmm?" Stiles hummed vaguely, nuzzling closer to Derek's chest, which ordinarily he would have appreciated, but he could hear the Sheriff's footsteps approaching the front door.

"Stiles, wake up!" Derek pressed against Stiles' arm, hoping at the very least they would _both_ be awake when the Sheriff walked in. "Your father's home!"

"shgjflgll..."

Derek heard the front door open and close, then the Sheriff saying, "Kid must've fallen asleep on the couch again," before quieter steps approached the living room. Derek closed his eyes and winced as he heard the Sheriff stop on the threshold. "What the...Hale?"

Something must have registered with Stiles, because he _finally_ woke up. "Mmm...Derek?" he murmured groggily. "Why's m'dad here?" Suddenly, he shot upright, only staying on the couch by dint of Derek grabbing him by the waist and preventing the fall. "Dad!"

The Sheriff looked at Stiles expectantly. "Care to explain what's going on here, son?"

"I, uh, we..." Stiles trailed off, looking desperately at Derek.

"Hey," Derek said lowly, catching one of Stiles' hands in his. "This is your Dad - we were always going to tell him someday." At Stiles' frowning face, Derek went on. "It's your choice: you can tell him _anything_ you want to." 

Stiles stared, and Derek smiled slightly in reassurance. There were things he'd rather keep private, and he doubted Stiles would take this particular opportunity to tell his dad about the supernatural, but everything he knew about the Sheriff (which was quite a lot by now), indicated he was a trustworthy and fair man.

The Sheriff cleared his throat pointedly and Stiles startled.

"Right! Derek, uh, Derek and I are dating, and he came over for dinner tonight, and we fell asleep on the couch?" Stiles said hopefully.

The Sheriff did not look pleased. " _You,"_ he pointed a finger at Derek, "a twenty-four year old man, Derek Hale, are dating my high-school-aged son?"

Derek winced, but nodded firmly, and tried to fix a sincere expression on his face. "Yes, sir."

"You may have been exonerated of the murders, Hale, but I've been keeping an eye on you, and if not for the fact that Melissa tells me Isaac's been doing better since he's been living with you, I'd have _serious_ concerns about your relationship with the boy." Derek blanched at the Sheriff's implications. "And now I find you 'watching a movie' with _my son_?"

"Okay, no," Stiles snapped. "I am not going to let you talk to him that way. Firstly, that is a _horrible_ thing to imply about someone, and Derek would _never do that_ , his relationship with Isaac is purely fraternal. Secondly, our relationship is only three months old and I have _always_ been the instigator, so don't you _dare_ accuse him of, of _grooming_ me or some shit like that."

"Just because you were the first to make an overt move, doesn't mean..."

" _Third_ ," Stiles ruthlessly overrode his father, "I am legally allowed to have a relationship with anyone I like now, so long as I'm not fucking someone under the age of eighteen, which is clearly _not_ the case here, and my relationships are none of your business. Fourthly, before you start saying anything about what happens under your roof _being_ your business, let me make it absolutely clear: Derek has not fucked me on the couch, or in my bed, or in this house. Derek has not fucked me in _his_ house. He has not fucked me in a car. He has not fucked me here or there, he has not fucked me _anywhere_."

"Oh my _god_ , Stiles," Derek muttered, his head in his hands.

"There has _been no fucking_ , Dad, for reasons which _we_ have discussed at length and which we are _not_ going to discuss with you." Stiles crossed his arms, defiant. "Does that answer your concerns?"

The Sheriff looked at the ceiling as he was going to find answers there. "Lord give me strength," he muttered. "You know what?" he went on more loudly, "I am coming off an eight hour shift, it's the middle of the night, and I am _too tired_ for this. Hale, you're going home so I can get some sleep knowing you're not in the house. _Tomorrow_ , you are coming to dinner, and we will discuss this _properly_. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Derek nodded, and stood to leave.

Stiles caught him by the hand. "Hey," he said softly. "We'll be fine, okay? We've come through worse than this."

Derek smiled a little, but didn't look any less anxious. "See you tomorrow, Stiles."

 

It worked out in the end, which was really the best thing Derek could say about it.

\-----

The first time Derek told Stiles "I love you," Stiles wasn't awake to hear it. He was stretched out possessively across their bed in the loft, mouth open and eyelashes dark against his cheeks, and Derek was lying, wrapped in their shared warmth and scent and what blankets he could steal, looking at Stiles sleeping in the morning sunlight, and he felt that bittersweet joy welling up so bright in his chest that his breath hitched, and he could not bear to do anything but say it. The next time Derek said "I love you," Stiles said it too.

\-----

The first time Stiles told Derek "I love you," Derek wasn't awake to hear it. He was curled up in a healing sleep on Stiles' bed, Stiles guarding him, watching as bloody gashes became pink scars became unbroken skin in the moonlight that slipped past the curtains, and as Stiles looked at him he felt that fear of loss ache so strong in his throat that his breath hitched, and he could not bear to do anything but say it. The next time Stiles said "I love you," Derek said it too.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a really interesting challenge to write - I've never written a fully realized romance on my own before, and Stiles' perspective in this is utterly foreign to me, being asexual myself. Apart from the orientation, Derek is no more like me than Stiles is, of course, but they do both draw on my own experiences and knowledge.
> 
> Obviously, the usual caveats apply - Derek here does not represent all asexual people, nor does his relationship with Stiles represent all asexual-allosexual relationships. For more info about asexuality, I really do recommend the AVEN forums at asexuality.org. I hope I've managed to reach that balance point of sharing the story of someone's process of discovery without writing a manual, but that does mean I've left some things unexplained.
> 
> The title is a reference to the phrase "effin-ineffable", stolen from T.S. Eliot's 'The Naming of Cats', which has been used on pride shirts and things by the asexual community for it's alternative interpretation "fucking unfuckable".


End file.
